What Child is This?
by NaomiP
Summary: A new look at the Luka - Nicole story from S8. How does Luka react to the news that he is going to be a father? And to the discovery that he's not? COMPLETE in 5 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

[Author's note: Like "Miles to Go", this is an earlier fic. I wrote this one last fall as well, and it was, like all my other fics, originally posted to Usenet.   
  
Still not light and fuzzy, (since the storyline it's based around was not light and fuzzy!) but not so dark as the others.   
  
This one is basically the Nicole/Luka storyline, viewed through Luka's eyes ... with some minor changes along the way. (And a few major changes as well.) How *would* Luka have reacted to the news that he was to be a father?  
  
I don't own ER. I don't own Luka Kovac (alas ...) or any of the other characters mentioned here. I do own this particular arrangement of words, so please do not do anything besides read/print it for your own enjoyment without my permission. But please DO review!]  
  
------------------  
  
The apartment was filled with the rich scent of braising meat and vegetables. Nicole stood at the stove, stirring something.  
  
"I made us supper, Luka," she said, with an anxious smile. "It's been ready for a while. I expected you home a couple of hours ago ... I was starting to worry."  
  
"I'm not really hungry." Luka hung up his damp coat. "I got a bite to eat at Doc Magoos." At Nicole's crestfallen expression he immediately regretted his words, and his too short, too brisk tone. "It smells wonderful, though. You go ahead and eat; you need to eat something. I'll have some later. I promise."  
  
"No, I'm not really hungry either," Nicole said. "I made it mostly for you. I'm a little bit nauseous, morning sickness, maybe?" She managed a nervous smile. "Though, at this hour, I guess we should call it nighttime sickness?"  
  
"Pregnancy can make you nauseous at any time of the day. You'll feel better if you eat a little something, though." Damn, why couldn't he make his voice sound concerned, instead of just -- professional? Nicole didn't miss it.  
  
"You're angry."  
  
"No, I'm not angry, Nicole. I just needed -- *need* some time. It was a shock, that's all. But it's not your fault. These things happen."  
  
Nicole looked sideways at him as she put the pot away in the fridge, and cleared the dishes from the table. "I should have been more careful. It *is* my fault." She sniffled a little. "But, you don't have to worry about me, Luka. I'll be ok. I've been on my own for so long; I'm good at it. I'll manage." She wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve.  
  
"Stop it!" snapped Luka. "Just stop it!" Then he hesitated. "Were you going to ... have the baby?" What answer did he expect to hear? What answer did he want?  
  
Nicole looked surprised. "Yes, of course! Didn't you want me to? I mean ... if you want me to have an abortion ... I guess I could ...." her voice caught and she wiped her eyes again.  
  
"Nicole, I said stop it! Why did you think I would want that? Of course I don't want that." And he realized that he meant it.  
  
You just don't seem very happy about it. We haven't been together very long. We never talked about children. I don't even know if you like children, or want them, or..."  
  
"That's enough!" Luka came around the table put his hands on Nicole's shoulders and looked into her reddened eyes. "We're not going to talk about this any more tonight. You're tired and stressed, and we both had long, rough days. I'm off tomorrow. We can eat that wonderful smelling supper, and have a long talk.We'll decide together what to do." He kissed her forehead gently. "Now go to bed."  
  
"Ok," Nicole agreed wearily. She started for the bedroom, then turned. "Are you coming?"  
  
"I'll be along soon."  
  
------  
  
Luka poured himself a drink and turned on the tv. But he didn't drink the wine, and he hardly saw what was on the tube -- the late news show ... something about an ambulance accident and an emergency c-section!  
  
How had this happened? They had been careful, hadn't they? The first night that Nicole had crawled into his bed, after spending two nights on the sofa, she'd told him that he didn't need to worry about using protection. "I'm on the pill," she'd told him. "Not that I've been -- doing anything -- I haven't been with anyone for a couple of years ... but my doctor put me on them when I was a teenager since I'm pretty irregular, and have such bad cramps." He'd insisted on condoms the first couple of times anyway, 'just to be safe,' he'd said ... but she'd complained, she'd cried. She didn't like the way they felt; didn't he trust her? "If you don't trust me, we shouldn't be doing this. I wouldn't sleep with a person *I* didn't trust..." And so, the condoms had stayed in the drawer.   
  
And he *did* trust her. He'd seen the pills in the bathroom. Of course she was taking them. Nothing was perfect ... sometimes these things happened. And, maybe, sometime things happened for a reason.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED... 


	2. Chapter 2

Luka waited until he was sure Nicole was asleep before he went into the bedroom. He didn't want to talk anymore tonight, or deal with her advances. She was asleep, sprawled, as always, across the middle of the bed. He was twice her size, he thought, but she always took up 90% of the bed. Still, he had to smile a little as he slid carefully into the few inches of mattress she'd left for him, careful not to wake her. She looked very beautiful in the moonlight shining through the window. Very beautiful, very innocent, and so very, very young....  
  
She had been so very young. They had both been. Married barely three months; deliriously in love, but very young and very poor. He'd been in school, Danijela supporting both of them on her miserable salary from a low-level office job. Their tiny flat was a single room, furnished only with a bed, a table and chairs, a few shelves and cupboards, and hotplate to cook on. But they had each other, what more did they need?  
  
He had come home that day, exhausted. After climbing the four flights of stairs to their apartment, he'd opened the door to the smell of supper cooking. He remembered having smelled it from down the hall, but had assumed it was from a neighbor's kitchen. Usually supper was just bread and cheese or potatoes. They could rarely afford anything more, and neither of them had the time or energy to cook -- preferring to spend what little energy they did have on each other. But that day, when he opened the door, he saw and smelled odrezak cooking on the little hotplate. A cake adorned the sideboard. The tiny table was set with their best dishes (their wedding gift from Danijela's grandparents, a family heirloom -- bombed to dust with the rest of their Vukovar apartment now....), and there were roses in a vase in the center of the table. And, more beautiful than the roses was Danijela herself, sitting and waiting for him, her face radiant, eyes shining with excitement.  
  
"What's all this?" he had asked.  
  
"A little celebration."  
  
"Just what are we celebrating?" He had been so tired, too tired to care really ... and he couldn't help tallying up the cost of the pork and the ham and the cake ... but he'd tried to be interested, for Danijela's sake.  
  
A little hesitation, a teasing smile -- as if she was trying to draw out the suspense -- or maybe she was going to make him guess (Lord... he wasn't in the mood for games ...) then her excitement had bubbled over.  
  
"We're going to have a baby!" she had cried.  
  
And -- for just an instant -- too brief for Danijela to have known (Luka was sure she had never known -- it may have the only secret he had ever kept from her) -- his reaction had been one of utter dismay. A baby? Now? How could they afford a baby so soon? They were barely surviving with just the two of them. How could they possibly feed three? He still had to finish school, and his internship ....  
  
Then, he had looked into Danijela's eyes, and seen the pure joy there, and his doubts had melted away. He'd let out a whoop so loud that he was sure the neighbors 3 flats over and 2 floors down had heard him (one of them had, in fact, commented on it the next day!), and scooped her up in a bone crushing hug. And the odrezak had almost burned while they enjoyed the *other* part of their celebration.  
  
As the months and years had passed, he had often remembered that instant of doubt and wondered how he could ever have felt it. Because, from then on, there had been only joy; watching Danijela grow and blossom in her pregnancy, feeling the tiny movements growing stronger through her growing belly, and laughing with her at the sight of the tiny feet and hands pummeling through the taut skin. And doing it all again, three years later, with Marko. And, of course, the only two times in his life he had ever cried from pure happiness -- when they had placed Jasna, and then Marko, in his arms for the first time. And too, there were the entirely different, but just as wonderful pleasures of watching his children grow, marveling at how much like him and Danijela they were, and yet, how much they were their own people, with their own, distinct personalities. Two perfect individuals.  
  
Luka snapped out of his reverie, aware that tears were wetting his face. No matter how happy the story, and how often he told it to himself, it never did have a happy ending, did it? Jasna would always be a bright eyed 4-year-old, Marko a giggling toddler. He would never watch them grow any more. And Danijela -- the houseful of children they had talked about so often "when the war is over" -- that would never be either.  
  
What had Nicole said to him earlier that evening? 'I don't even know if you like children, or want them?' God.... he loved children, and wanted children. *His* children, Jasna and Marko. But they were dead, long dead. He could never have them again. But here was another child, and it was his child too.  
  
No, it wasn't the ideal situation. Luka wasn't going to try and fool himself for a moment. This was *not* what he had imagined when he had thought about having a family again some day -- but when were things ever ideal? Sometimes, you had to take what life gave you. Certainly things were better in so many ways than they had been that day in their tiny one room flat. He had a good job with a good salary and benefits. Nicole would have the best prenatal care. He could provide for Nicole and his baby.  
  
His baby. Unexpectedly, the words made him smile, really smile, for the first time that evening. It would be ok. Somehow, everything would be ok. Luka felt the tension leave his body, and he closed his eyes and was quickly asleep.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED... 


	3. Chapter 3

Morning sunshine slanted through the bedroom window.  
  
"Good morning, sleepyhead," purred Nicole, cuddling up to him. She started to caress him under the covers, but Luka turned away quickly and sat up.  
  
"What's wrong? It won't hurt the baby, will it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Making love?"  
  
"No," Luka replied quickly. "I just..." he sighed. "Not right, now ... ok?"  
  
He got into the shower and tried to think. Why had Nicole's touch turned him off -- repelled him, almost, this morning? The idea of the baby was still ok, more than ok. It was something he'd been wanting, without even realizing it, for such a long time. (Maybe that was what had come between him and Abby? That they'd never talked about children? That he'd sensed that Abby didn't seem to want them?)  
  
But what was wrong with Nicole? No, he told himself firmly, there was nothing wrong with her. She was a sweet girl; gentle, kind, innocent. A lot of bad stuff had happened to her, none of which was her fault. It wasn't her fault she'd had a difficult childhood. She'd had to be on her own for a long time; that could make even sweet and innocent people 'hard' in strange ways. Once she had someone to help her, take care of her, she would be ok.  
  
And it wasn't her fault she had gotten pregnant, perhaps a little sooner than either of them were quite ready for. These things really *did* happen sometimes.  
  
No, Luka realized, the only thing *wrong* with Nicole was that she wasn't Danijela -- and that wasn't her fault either. Nobody could be Danijela, and it was wrong of him to expect anyone to be. For 10 years he'd been waiting for Danijela to come along again. What had Carol said about Doug -- that he was her soul-mate? Danijela *had* been his, and Carol had been wrong, he was never going to find another love like her again. But that didn't mean he had to be alone forever, did it? He could have children again ... have a family again, even have a wife he could love again. Nicole was a good person, he could learn to love her, he just had to give himself, and her, a chance.   
  
Luka got out of the shower and quickly dried off, then returned to the bedroom. Nicole was still in bed. Dropping the towel on the floor, he got into bed beside her.  
  
-----  
  
Over breakfast he said "I think the best thing would be for us to get married."  
  
"You don't have to do that," Nicole said quickly. "I wasn't expecting you to...."  
  
"Don't you want to marry me? I thought you liked me," Luka teased.  
  
"I do, I want to ... I just don't want *you* to feel that you have to."  
  
"I know I don't have to. But it's what I want. And it's what's best for everyone. I see way too many kids growing up with just one parent, and it's too hard, and I don't want that for my baby, or for you. You shouldn't have to be alone. And I want to be able to raise my baby -- my child." He hesitated. "And if this one turns out good, maybe a few more?"  
  
"I'll make you change diapers," Nicole joked.  
  
"I don't mind."  
  
"I'm sure you've never changed a diaper in your whole life."  
  
"One or two," Luka said softly.  
  
"What? Do they teach you how in medical school?"  
  
Luka opened his mouth to answer, to explain, then, somehow, couldn't do it. They were so happy, so relaxed ... why spoil it? "Something like that," he said. Then, "So, when do you want to do this?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Get married!"  
  
"I... I don't know. There's no big hurry, I guess. I'm due.... I think it would be next summer some time."  
  
"They'll be able to tell you for sure at your first OB appointment. We need to set that up soon."  
  
"Yeah, I know. But, anytime between now and then."  
  
"I was just thinking that it can take time to plan a wedding. So we need to decide, and we might want to do it before you get too big, though we don't have to if you don't mind walking down the aisle looking like a house."  
  
"A wedding?" Nicole asked, surprised. "Were you wanting a wedding? I was thinking we'd just get married."  
  
"It's up to you. I just thought you would want one. You're entitled to have one, you know."  
  
"Even now?" Nicole patted her still flat belly.  
  
"Sure, even now. Dr. Corday and Dr. Green got married when she was 8 months gone, in a big church wedding. And just a few weeks ago we had a women come into the ER in a white wedding gown -- complete with the train and veil and everything -- full term! Her water had broken on the way to the church and she panicked."  
  
They laughed together, then Nicole said, seriously, "It's nice of you to offer, but I don't think I'd want that. Just a small wedding, with a few friends. Or we could go to the courthouse. We can think about it and decide another day."  
  
Luka was, secretly, relieved that she didn't want a big wedding. Even as he was offering it, he was wondering, in all honesty, who they would invite to such an event. Even 'a few friends' might prove a challenge to scare up. Luka had neighbors and acquaintances, he realized. He got along well, professionally, with most of the people at County, but there were few who he would consider to be 'friends' in any real sense, except for maybe Abby -- and he couldn't imagine inviting Abby to his wedding -- not to this one anyway! And family? His father would, no doubt, be thrilled to learn that he was marrying again, and even more thrilled to hear that he was finally going to have grandchildren again (his brother and sister in law had been trying without success for years now), but Luka wasn't sure how he'd react to the news that he was marrying someone he hadn't yet even *mentioned* to him in their frequent phone conversations! No, he couldn't see flying his father and brother over for this wedding. Best to inform them after the deed was done.  
  
As for Nicole, if she had any close friends, he'd never met them. Yes, a small wedding, a very small one, was probably the best choice.  
  
-----  
  
It's what's best for everyone. Luka told himself that a thousand times over the next few days. And he knew it was true. But it didn't make the time at home with Nicole any easier. Instead of growing more comfortable in each others' company, things seemed to grow more strained between them. Luka knew he was trying, and he could sense that Nicole was trying too. So what was going wrong? Why didn't it work?  
  
Still, they went ahead with their plans, talking about the baby and the wedding. The baby was the one thing they could talk about together easily. They decided, tentatively, on a late December wedding, right after Christmas, though Luka never seemed able to find the time to locate a priest to talk to about it. (Nicole wanted to be married by a priest, though Luka would have preferred a civil ceremony. Perhaps he could still change her mind.) He thought he'd ask Mark to stand up with him. Mark was married and had children. He would understand what Luka was doing, and why. Nobody else was likely to.  
  
Not that he'd given them a chance, of course. He hadn't told anyone else except Abby about the baby, and hadn't yet told anyone about his plans to marry Nicole. Abby's response to the news about the baby, while sympathetic enough, had hardly been supportive, and he hesitated to tell her the rest, though he could certainly use a friend about now. Still ... it just wasn't the sort of topic one brought up over coffee... "Oh, by the way, I've decided to marry Nicole and settle down with her and raise a passel of kids," just *didn't* roll trippingly off the tongue, now did it? The more Luka thought about it, the more awkward the whole situation seemed to be. Nobody at County liked Nicole. Nobody was going to understand why he was marrying her. Maybe the best thing to do would be to leave County, get a job elsewhere. Surely that wouldn't be hard to do....  
  
----  
  
Abby brought up the subject first. When she told him that she'd seen Nicole, and expressed surprise that she planned on keeping the baby -- and questioned again if he knew it was really his -- he'd told her that he was going to marry Nicole. And Abby's response had hardly been what he'd hoped for (though, in all honesty, about what he'd expected). "You've known her for what ... 5 minutes?" And then he'd gotten defensive and Abby had gotten pissy and they'd stopped talking to each other. Why didn't Abby understand? Surely she knew him better than that ... well enough to have some idea of what he was thinking, why he was doing this. No, he thought, she was just jealous. She'd dumped him for no reason, and couldn't bear to think that he might someday be happy with someone else.  
  
Someday. No, they weren't happy now, not really. Luka wasn't going to lie to himself. But they would be. Once the baby was born, even once she started to show and he could share in her pregnancy, or even once they were married, things would be better. They *would* be. And, in the meantime, a fresh start, away from County, would be the first step.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED ... 


	4. Chapter 4

Stunned, numb, Luka walked slowly into the lounge. Thankfully, the room was empty. Nicole's words still echoed in his mind.   
  
"I'm not pregnant. I'm sorry. I made it all up." He poured a cup of coffee and wrapped his ice-cold hands around the sides of the cup.  
  
No baby. He should be glad, he told himself firmly. He hadn't *really* wanted a baby with Nicole, had he? He'd just been trying to make the best of a bad situation. No, of course he hadn't wanted children with Nicole. He'd wanted children with Danjiela -- a dozen of 'em.   
  
But it had been so long, and while it would never been the same as before -- Nicole could never be Danijela -- he could never love her that way -- they would have still been a family. There would have been children, and *that* would have been the same.  
  
The pain in his heart was only a fraction of the agony he'd felt that day in Vukovar (and, for so many months and years afterwards), but it was sharp enough. Still ... how do you grieve for a child who had never even been conceived? Who had only been a dream from the start?  
  
Abby, to her credit, refrained from even hinting at "I told you so," when he told her. She was nothing but kind and sympathetic.  
  
Over the next few weeks, Luka did his best to forget Nicole -- to forget the whole miserable episode. He'd arrived home from work that day to find Nicole's few possessions gone (and a few of his as well). She was, he thought, probably already in Montreal, finding another sucker to manipulate.  
  
Still, doubts nagged at him. She had lied so often. What if this was a lie too? What if she was still pregnant, and struggling alone in Montreal? What would happen to his baby? Nicole wasn't the most responsible of people -- Luka found it hard to care what happened to her, really, but if *she* got into trouble, if she was homeless and on the street, or on drugs, or hooked up with an abusive man -- what would happen to the baby? To *his* baby? Maybe he should take a few days off, he thought, go to Montreal, see if she was ok.   
  
But, what if that had been a lie too? Perhaps she hadn't gone to Montreal at all. She could have gone anywhere...  
  
So.... Luka struggled to move on with life. Again.  
  
-----  
  
It was a few days before Christmas. Luka had just dispoed a toddler with a sore throat when the ambulance bay doors opened. A gurney. The paramedic immediately started to give him the bullet. "Twenty-four year old woman, collapsed on the el. Heavy vaginal bleeding, temp 103, tachy at 110...."  
  
But Luka wasn't hearing her anymore. The soft blonde hair was stringy, the familiar face pale and damp with sweat....  
  
Nicole's eyes met his with shocked recognition. "Luka..." her voice was frantic. "I asked them not to bring me here ... they said they had to; it was the closest..."  
  
"It's ok," Luka said. "We'll take care of you. You may have been pregnant after all, you may have..."  
  
Nicole's eyes widened a little, and she looked around in increasing panic. "Please ... can't I have another doctor?"  
  
"It's ok, Nicole," Luka started to say again, but Susan interrupted.  
  
"She's right, Luka. You shouldn't be involved in this one. She knows you, " (that was Susan, ever tactful, thought Luka...) "she doesn't want you taking care of her professionally. We've got it."  
  
Helpless, Luka watched them wheel Nicole into the trauma room. He returned to his own patients, thankful that they were all simple and routine, nothing requiring more than a small percentage of his attention. Because his mind was on Nicole every moment, running through every possible scenario.  
  
Maybe she'd really believed she wasn't pregnant, maybe she'd been spotting, had mistaken it for a period. Perhaps the fever was unrelated to the bleeding. it was, after all, December, and if she'd been on the street ... Or maybe she'd had a missed spontaneous abortion, and had become septic ... or had been raped ...  
  
Every time Luka passed through the halls between patients he looked into the trauma room, but he couldn't tell what was happening, except that she seemed to be stable. He didn't dare loiter by the door long enough to get a better sense of the situation.  
  
The morning string of routine cases was broken by a hot MI and a lengthy code. When Luka finally called it, and got the chance to check on Nicole again, the room was empty.   
  
Frantic, he started off in search of Susan, and found her at the desk.  
  
"How's Nicole?"  
  
"She'll be fine," Susan said lightly. "Just sent her upstairs to GYN for a few days of IV antibiotics."  
  
"No D&C?"  
  
"I don't think she'll need one. Doesn't look like there was any retained tissue. The clinic did a decent job in clearing everything out, they could just stand a lesson or two in sterile technique." Susan shook her head. "How many clinics do we have in this town that do *safe* early term abortions. She could even have come here to have it done. Instead she goes to some cheap storefront clinic -- says it's all she could afford. She's lucky she passed out on the el. She was on her way to Union Station to catch a train. If she'd collapsed between stations, she might have died before she got to help."  
  
Susan sighed again, grabbed another chart from the rack, and disappeared down the hall. Luka didn't move. He couldn't. He hadn't heard a word after "the clinic did a decent job..." Of all the possible scenarios, this was the one he had not imagined -- had not, he had to admit, *allowed* himself to imagine.  
  
That she'd left to have the baby alone -- that she'd never been pregnant at all -- even a miscarriage, any of those he could think about, could bear. But not this.  
  
How often had they talked about it? How many times in those few weeks had she asked him "Are you sure you want this baby, Luka?" and he'd answered her, and meant it, every time, "Yes, of course I want the baby."  
  
For other women, other babies, he had no trouble accepting the decision. He'd long since lost count of the times he'd counseled frightened and naive young women to consider abortion. But not for his baby -- not like this.   
  
Nicole had wanted the baby, he was sure of it. And he had wanted it.   
  
So ... why?  
  
A voice startled him. It was Abby. "Luka? I'm sorry."  
  
"Yeah...." Luka said softly.  
  
"Do you want to take a break? Get a cup of coffee or something?"  
  
"No, I'm fine, and the board's backing up." Both were lies, of course, but Luka didn't want to talk to Abby right now. After all her initial sarcasm and doubts, how *dare* she be sympathetic now. Somehow, Luka thought, it be easier if *would* just say "I told you so."  
  
But she said "Are you going to go up and see her later?"  
  
"No!" The only person Luka wanted to see, to talk to, *less* than Abby right now was Nicole.  
  
"Maybe you should. Give her a chance to give her side of it ... to explain. She must have had her reasons."  
  
"Explain?" Luka asked bitterly. "Why should I waste my time? It would just be more lies. Besides, I'm sure she doesn't want to see me. If she'd wanted to see me, to explain, she had plenty of chances." Luka took a chart. "Now I have work to do."  
  
TO BE CONTINUED... 


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next few days Luka again tried to keep busy, and tried not to think about it. It was over. There was no point in dwelling on it. At least he no longer had to wonder where she was, what had happened to her. He knew.  
  
Abby didn't bring up the subject again, though sometimes Luka sensed that she wanted to say something -- that *something* seemed to be bothering her.  
  
As for the rest of the staff, while some no doubt knew of, or suspected, some connection between him and Nicole's pregnancy, if they did, they were kind enough, or discreet enough not to mention it. (At least not to his face. He had no doubt that the County Rumor Mill was humming away full-tilt.)  
  
But it was hard. At any other time of year, Luka was sure, it would have been easier. But Christmas had always been hard for him. A time of year for families and children -- and he had been alone every Christmas since he'd come to America. This year, for the first time in so long, he'd been looking forward to Christmas. This year he would have been a family with Nicole, and the baby and upcoming wedding to look forward to. And next year would have been the baby's first Christmas. (No, the baby wouldn't remember, but for the parent it was a magical time. Even after all these years, Luka could still remember ever detail of Jasna's and Marko's first Christmases.) But now ... there was nothing to look forward to. He volunteered to work every day through the holidays.  
  
Keeping busy was the best thing to do, he knew.  
  
The day before Christmas Luka heard that Nicole had been discharged.  
  
  
  
"I'm sure she'll be fine," Abby said, as they worked together on a case.  
  
"Who will?"  
  
"Nicole. She can take care of herself, or find someone else to take care of her."  
  
"Some other poor sucker, you mean?" Luka asked wryly.  
  
"You said it, not me."  
  
Luka couldn't maintain his feigned good humor. "I really don't care what happens to Nicole anymore."  
  
"Harsh words about the girl you were planning to marry just a few weeks ago."  
  
"I never cared about Nicole," Luka said, very quiet. "I wanted the baby. I'm sure that I would have -- could have -- grown to love her, for the sake of the baby, but not anymore."  
  
  
  
It seemed to Luka that virtually every case that came his way that day was a baby or small child. There was the 2 month old with SIDS, Luka worked on him for over an hour before finally calling it, and having to break the news to the hysterical parents. There was the ravishing dark-eyed 4 year old (so like Jasna) who had fallen from Santa's lap and sprained her wrist. A sweet and engaging child who, on any other day, Luka would have warmed to so easily, and teased and bantered with. But today he couldn't bear to be drawn in, so, cool and professional, he'd prescribed ice, rest and Ibuprofen, and sent the family on their way. And the 6 month old with two broken legs and a skull fracture (and a dozen healed fractures and a hundred old bruises) who had "fallen out of his crib." Luka had treated the injuries, told Haleh to call CFS, and escaped. And, of course, the usual mid-winter assortment of colds, chicken-pox and ear aches.  
  
Dozens of babies and children, passing through his life -- would any of them remember that he'd been part of their lives for a few moments? Would *he* remember any of them tomorrow?  
  
When he finally got an adult patient, a simple hand lac, the man was accompanied by his two children. The father was going to jail as soon as he was stitched, and with no other family to care for them, the children would likely spend Christmas in Emergency Intake, or, if they were really lucky, with a stranger in foster care.  
  
Out in the hallway, he said to Abby, "Maybe I should post bail for them." Maybe if he could just make a real difference to someone, he thought, it would help fill the emptiness inside him.  
  
"There's only so much you can do," Abby said gently. She touched his arm, and so couldn't be unaware that he was shaking a little. "You miss your kids?"  
  
"Yeah ... it's worse at Christmas." He hesitated. "And I thought that this year ... next year ..." He wiped impatiently at his eyes.  
  
Abby squeezed his hand, offering wordless comfort, but Luka still sensed that something remained unspoken between them.  
  
"Did she know?" asked Abby after a minute.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Your kids? Danijela?"  
  
Luka smiled a little and shook his head. "No, I never told her."  
  
Abby raised an eyebrow. "Were you planning to?"  
  
"Yes, ... eventually ... it just never felt like the right time. We were so happy..." Luka shook his head again, in confusion. "And it didn't seem to matter. It shouldn't have mattered, not to her. I wouldn't have wanted it to have mattered."  
  
---  
  
The endless shift was finally over, and Luka headed home to his empty apartment, and his empty life. He would go to bed, sleep, and then go back to work on Christmas Day. If he could have managed without sleep that long, he would have happily worked Christmas Eve and night as well, but Kerry wouldn't allow it.   
  
His thoughts from earlier in the evening came back to him. If he could only make a real difference for someone, it might fill the emptiness -- and Abby's words "There's only so much you can do."  
  
No ... there had to be more. More to medicine than treating sprains and sore throats. More to life than this.   
  
Suddenly Luka remembered. The letter had come several weeks before. He'd read it with interest, but knew he couldn't go -- not with a new wife and a baby on the way. But, for some reason he hadn't thrown the letter away.   
  
Luka searched among the bills and papers on his desk until he found the envelope. "L'Alliance des Medicines Internationale."  
  
"Dr. Kovac," he read, skimming rapidly down the page. "... volunteer opportunity ... Bosnia ... we encourage you to consider ...."  
  
Yes, that was exactly what he needed -- a change of scene, a chance to do more, to fill his empty life. Luka put the envelope by the phone. He would call the day after Christmas.   
  
THE END 


End file.
